


Late For Church

by Evening_Star713



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Trendy Lestat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 20:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15565449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evening_Star713/pseuds/Evening_Star713
Summary: Louis has asked lestat to bring him to church. As the minutes tick by, Louis goes in search of Lestat. What he finds is nothing short of amusing.





	Late For Church

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt challenge for my dearest SongstressTinyTeacup. No word limit. And the prompt is
> 
> "Here. Let me do it..."
> 
> As always, VC characters belong to Anne Rice and I make no money on this fic.

"Stat? Are you coming? We should leave soon."

Louis stood by the door of their flat on Rue Royal examining himself in the broad mirror beveled two inches from its edge and set in a beautifully hand-carved mahogany frame meticulously chosen by his lovely lion. He adjusted the sleeves of the deep emerald green cashmere sweater. It was new, and while he did not care for the condition of his clothes most times, he had asked Lestat if he would bring him to evening mass tonight; he thought this would do nicely. 

He glanced up at the ornate roman numeral clock on the mantle. 8:15; Mass began at nine, and Lestat's only request was that they hunt before going. The little drink would suffice, he'd assured. Just enough to bring a little color to their cheeks.

"Merde!" Lestat suddenly spat from the bathroom down the hall. Louis let out a soft laugh at this. Oh, Lestat. Primping, no doubt. He turned and started down the hall.

"Everything alright, dearest?"

"Fine!" Lestat grumbled, his voice echoing off the porcelain. "Almost... Damn it all!"

"We really must depart, Mon Ange. That is, if you still want to feed befo-"

As he turned the corner, he was mildly shocked at what he beheld. There was his maker, dressed to the nines in a beautifully cut and form-fitting black Armani suit. This style featured a period collar with a shock of royal purple banded through the inside that darted out to the small pointed lapels. This was complemented with a silk pocket square of the same hue. This, however, did not shock Louis in the slightest.

What did shock him was the fruit of all Lestat's cursing. He had pulled his unruly hair up to a messy bun on top of his head, and was fussing with the hair tie, trying to make it look perfect.

His shock turned to helpless laughter.

"Stat! What on Earth are you doing?!" He chuckled.

"It's called a Man Bun. All the rage these days. But I look like I have a pumpkin on my head!" In his frustration, he yanked the hair tie out leaving a floppy mess of blonde curls leaning to one side. He huffed as he placed his hands on the sink defeated.

Louis stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Lestat's torso and taking the hair tie with his free hand. He placed a kiss on Lestat's cheek as he caught his gaze in the mirror.

"Here. Let me do it..."

Placing the tie between his teeth, he raked his gleaming nails through Lestat's hair smoothing the untamed mane with practiced elegance. His maker continued to study his movements as he pulled his hair to his crown inserting his nail here and there creating small bumps in the smoothness.

"The key is to make it appear effortless." he said, the hair tie still clenched between his teeth like a toothpick or matchstick. He twisted the loose hair around itself twice and slipped the hair tie around the bun twisting it twice to secure it.

"Turn around."he softly commanded. Lestat looked at him curiously as Louis reached up and pulled a strand out of the bun from his left temple letting the curl fall softly across his cheek.

"There. Cest magnifique."

Lestat regarded himself in the mirror before turning back to face his beautiful fledgling.

"You continue to surprise me, Mon Chaton. It is truly a work of art. But however did you come by this skill?!" he asked, his eyes telling his bewilderment.

"Oh, Lestat. This is nothing new. You of all people should realize that. If you recall, dear maker, I did live in San Fransisco for quite sometime and-"

"Beatniks." Lestat said suddenly.

"I believe they're called hipsters now, my love."

"Ah, oui." Lestat slid his arm around his fledglings elbow giving him that dazzling smile of his.

"Well, my pet. The hunt can wait, I believe. Shall we to church?"


End file.
